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We all go a little mad sometimes.
You could only push someone so far before they snapped. Most people were aware of that. Chanel Oberlin was not. Chanel Oberlin didn’t care about anyone’s feelings but hers. And why should she? She insulted everyone, even people she sorta kinda liked. Most people didn’t take her insults to heart. After all, she was being stalked by a masked murder, most people would be snappy in a situation like that. But Chanel Number 5 did take those insults to heart. ' '“You fucking failed abortion!” ''' '''There was silence afterwards, as to let the insult sink in. No one told Chanel off. No one defended her. All she got was sympathetic looks from Grace and Zayday. She couldn’t defend herself. Hell, she didn’t even know why she was being insulted for. Maybe she was breathing to hard, or maybe her outfit was coordinated with the others or maybe and most likely, Chanel had insulted her just because she felt like it. All #5 could do was, get up from her seat, try her damndest not to cry and go to her room. Once she was alone, a broken sob escaped her lips as she threw herself onto her bed and cried until she had no more tears. When her tears had dried up, her sadness turned into anger. All the insults, all the snide comments, all the spread rumors. #5 laid in bed for hours before she came to a conclusion. Chanel Oberlin has pushed her too far and she had to go. Around two in the morning, she slipped out of her bed and grabbed a pair of designer leather gloves from her dresser. If you were going to kill you might as well do it in style. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. It was small but size doesn't matter. As #5 crept into Chanel’s room, she thought of all the insults. Everyday of being treated like shit for no fucking reason. She locked the door behind her and slowly crawled onto Chanel's bed, straddling her so she wouldn't be able to move. Chanel's eyes opened slowly and she looked up at #5. “What the fuck are you -” Her question was cut off by a harsh stab to the throat. Another stab. Another. Another. Another. A stab for each insult she could remember. When she couldn't remember anymore, she stopped and looked around the room. There was blood everywhere. On the bed, the walls, the floor. Even on the ceiling. Chanel Oberlin was dead. Libby left the room, putting the knife back in the kitchen, throwing the gloves in the garbage and going to the bathroom. She glanced shortly at the mirror, not wanting to see herself covered in her former friend’s blood. She got into the shower, watching the blood go down the drain and reflecting on what she just did. They wouldn't suspect it was her, not while there was a murderer on the loose. And the police here weren't competent enough to figure out it was her. She got out the shower and looked in the mirror with a small smile. Nice and clean. Libby climbed into bed, getting the best sleep she had in years. Category:Fanfiction